


Silk and Light

by Jade_Dragoness



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-11
Updated: 2009-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Dragoness/pseuds/Jade_Dragoness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is discovered as a sorcerer and faces the death sentence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to wrennette, neptuneskisses and x_bellaitalia_x for the awesome beta job.

The aftermath of the sorcerer’s attempt to kill Prince Arthur left the entire court stunned to silence and staring at the one who had saved him.

Arthur also stared at Merlin. It was impossible for him to look anywhere else. The white-blue nimbus that had been outlining Merlin’s body slowly drained away until he was just Merlin again, the same sometimes moronic and often incompetent servant Arthur had grown rather fond of, standing in front of Arthur with his hands slowly dropping to his sides.

Merlin had been the one to shield Arthur from the sorcerer’s magical blow. A blow, Arthur was certain, would have killed him. The sorcerer’s fury and hatred had been too great for it to have been anything other than a deadly strike. Then, Merlin had done something. Something that had made the sorcerer scream and shatter apart like a dropped mirror, leaving nothing behind but the dark blue robes he’d been wearing.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, feeling as he had been struck down, breathless and pained. Connections started forming in his mind. Linking event after unexplainable event. That weird run of good luck that would hit him, but only ever when Merlin was around. The way that Merlin always brought his attention to the dangerous magic about Camelot and sometimes even showed him how to solve the situation. He felt as if he’d been wandering around like a blind fool. How could he not have _seen_ it?

“Arrest this sorcerer!” boomed Uther. Arthur, and everyone else in court jumped in surprise at the loud order, like thunder after the silence.

When Arthur turned to protest, he recoiled from his own father. Uther’s red face was a rictus of fury. It didn‘t look sane. Arthur opened his mouth to protest again but he was cut off.

“I won‘t resist,” Merlin said quietly.

Arthur spun to face him. Merlin’s eyes were frighteningly flat, as if he had no hope left, no longer looking blue so much as pale grey, drained of color and vitality.

The Camelot guards drew their swords. Merlin’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped in resignation.

“No!” Arthur shouted, fueled by desperation. His thoughts now spun in a new direction fueled by the realization that his father was going to _kill_ Merlin. “He‘s my servant, that makes him my responsibility. I‘ll take him to the dungeon.”

Uther was glaring at Merlin with so much loathing that it made Arthur step between them to try to shield Merlin from it, the same way that Merlin had just shielded him from the sorcerer.

“Very well, but the guards will go with you,” said Uther, his voice thick with threat.

Arthur didn’t dare protest. It would be too easy for Uther to order Merlin’s death here and now for him to risk pushing his father. Uther was never in the mood to listen to reason when it came to magic. It would be pointless to say anything otherwise. All Arthur could do was buy time. The more time he could find, the longer Merlin lived. The more time he had to think up a solution to this catastrophe. There had to be a way. He wasn’t going to let Merlin die. The very idea was… was inconceivable. Even thinking about it made him feel nauseous and jumpy with desperate energy.

Arthur stepped up to Merlin. He didn’t dare touch him with his father’s glare still on them. The last thing Merlin needed was for his father to perceive any kind of indication about the state of Arthur’s feelings. If he thought that Arthur had any hesitation about following his orders, then he’d keep Arthur as far away from Merlin as he could, until it was too late.

Arthur looked at Merlin, who nodded at him. Arthur cast his eyes back to the court to see his father drinking a goblet of wine, his gloved hand clenched tightly around the stem while Morgana and Guinevere were clinging to each other with similar ashen, grief-stricken expressions.

Guards surrounded Merlin and Arthur, then escorted them out the great hall’s wide wooden doors, through the silent halls of Camelot, in the direction of the dungeon cells.  
*-*-*-*

Arthur guarded Merlin as they walked to the cells. Not so much because he feared Merlin or any possible danger that he posed, but rather, he was worried about the guards having negative reactions to Merlin’s revelation as a magic user.

There had been times in the past when prisoners accused of sorcery had been hurt. People who would limp to the executioner’s block, or hold their limbs with too delicate caution. Uther hadn’t cared and Arthur had done all he could to stop the abuse but it still happened once in a while. The fear of magic was heavily engrained among the castle‘s inhabitants, fear that had only been strengthened over the twenty years that Uther had spent rooting every hint of magic out of Camelot. While Arthur’s father hadn’t done anything to encourage the fear, he certainly had set a fine example for his subjects in his seething contempt for magic.

So, Arthur didn’t dare say anything to Merlin. Not yet. It wasn’t until they were in the cell - the same cell in which Arthur himself had once been locked up, Arthur noticed ironically - that he dared to speak.

“Leave us,” he ordered the guards. They exchanged glances before nodding. Arthur was glad his father hadn’t had the chance to give them more orders. As the prince they would listen to him unless he was overruled by the king. Arthur was determined to take as much advantage of this while he still could.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, as soon as they were alone. “I-

Arthur held up a hand, to stop Merlin from saying anything. He didn’t really want to hear it. He glared and hissed, trying to be quiet when all he wanted to do was yell, to shout loud enough to be heard in the courtyard. “You idiot! My father is going to kill you now!”

“-I should have told you before,” Merlin continued. Because, he never did know when to shut up, thought Arthur in irritation.

He grabbed Merlin by the shoulders and glared straight into his eyes. Arthur’s blue eyes flashed like lightening in his fury. “Just when I think you couldn‘t do anything more moronic. You are the worst servant in the history of Camelot! Of all of Albion!” Arthur growled, too angry to be at all rational.

Merlin let him vent but looked at him with such hurt eyes that Arthur dropped his head, breaking their gaze. His anger drained away from him, leaving him tired and hollow.

Arthur repeated softly, nearly inaudibly, “My father is going to kill you.” The anguish seeped past his tight control and colored his tone with a deep bruise.

Merlin blinked. He raised his hands to Arthur’s arms and squeezed them reassuringly. He said, “I couldn‘t just let him kill you, not when I knew I could protect you.”

He said it so easily. As if there was never a doubt in Merlin’s mind what he would do. Arthur shook his head in denial of it. But he knew Merlin was right. There was no way that he would have been able to stop the sorcerer. How? With a simple sword? The very idea was ridiculous, no mortal weapon could have withstood that power. But trading his life for Merlin’s?

Arthur would never accept that.

His duty as a prince, as the protector of his people, was to stand between danger and his subjects. It was his duty to prosecute the guilty and see justice done.

And Merlin… he was more than just a nameless subject. Merlin was the first true friend that Arthur had, in far too long. His careless disregard of Arthur’s royal lineage, from their very first meeting, had told Arthur so much about what motivated him. It wasn’t ambition to gain status by being close to the prince of Camelot. For all of Arthur’s mocking, Merlin wasn’t the village idiot, he knew what Arthur’s rank meant and he still stood up to Arthur, seeing past his noble birth to the man underneath who was just Arthur. He spoke up when he thought Arthur was wrong, forcing Arthur to be better than he’d been before.

That was something too precious for Arthur to let it slip away. _Merlin_ was too precious to him.

“I‘d do it again, if I had the choice,” continued Merlin.

Arthur shook his head again. “No, you’d never get the chance, because unless I save your stupid foolish head, you‘ll lose it.” He stepped away from Merlin, feeling the urge to pace, restlessness making his skin tight, but he controlled himself.

Merlin paled, but he surprised Arthur with his next words. “No. Don‘t. Don‘t risk yourself for me. The king-”

“-would never kill me,” interrupted Arthur. “Me? His only son? His only heir? He‘d rather throw me in the dungeon for the next year, for the next ten years if it came to that, than harm me in such a way.”

Merlin just shook his head again. “Don‘t risk it. Not for me.”

These words pushed Arthur’s control until it snapped and he snarled, grabbling Merlin by the shoulders again. “If not for you than for whom? I know you aren‘t evil. It‘s like calling a horse evil, it‘s not in your nature. Stupid, yes, you‘ve proven _that_ rather brilliantly, but never evil. So, am I just supposed to let my father kill you?”

“Yes,” whispered Merlin. Arthur’s hands tightened.

“No,” said Arthur, fiercely. “I‘ll get you out of here.”

“How?” asked Merlin. “After the escape of the druid boy, Mordred, your father revised and improved Camelot‘s security so such a thing could never happen again.”

Arthur knew this. It was true. He’d even been the one to suggest some of the best security improvements. He cursed himself for that now.

He turned away from Merlin, unable to face him. His entire body was tense as a bow string, ready to snap even if lightly touched. Yet Merlin had never been able to heed such unspoken warnings and settled his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur spun, grabbed Merlin’s chin with his hands and kissed him.

Arthur attacked his lips as if leading a charge, unstoppable and ruthless.

Merlin gasped in shock into his mouth and when he tried to step back, Arthur followed. Not letting Merlin have the chance to escape. Just kissing him, biting at his lips, and clashing their teeth hard enough to ache.

It wasn’t until Arthur tasted the unmistakable copper tang of blood that he stopped and released Merlin. Licking his lips, and causing them to sting, made him realize it had been his own lips he had damaged.

Merlin looked stunned, his eyes wide and even his mouth hanging open.

A clear invitation for another kiss, thought Arthur.

As if he had heard that thought, Merlin’s mouth clicked closed. Arthur was fascinated by the faint smear of red at the bottom of Merlin’s lips.

“Wha- What? Why?” Merlin swallowed, his gulp oddly loud in the cell. “Did the sorcerer manage to hit you with his magic after all?”

Arthur threw his hands up into the air. Frustrated with Merlin‘s thick-headedness he asked, “Is that what you think this is? That I would only kiss you if be-spelled?”

Merlin shot him a nervous look. “What else can it be? You‘ve never- You don‘t-” Merlin waved at Arthur, his expression helpless in his attempt to explain how unrealistic he considered the idea of Arthur kissing him. He concluded, “I‘m just a servant.”

Arthur snorted, “You‘ve never been just a servant, Merlin.”

Arthur stepped closer to Merlin. He continued, “If you‘d been just another servant, it would have been so much simpler. I would have been able to ignore you. Then I wouldn‘t be feeling this way for you.”

“You-”

Whatever Merlin was going to say, Arthur caught off with another kiss.

“Just shut up,” Arthur sighed, as he pulled back to look into Merlin’s blue eyes.

“Oh,” Merlin breathed, in sudden understanding.

Arthur couldn’t help but smile. Merlin was looked stunned and amazed, as if he had never even contemplated the possibility that Arthur could feel such a depth of emotion for him.

Merlin’s expression reminded Arthur all over again how he’d managed to fall under this his influence. How he’d gone from thinking of Merlin as a trouble-making, insolent servant to someone whom he’d face death for, Arthur would defy his father in order to provide him protection.

Now, his protection was proving to be nothing more than a parchment shield, tearing apart under the force of his father’s power and hatred.

The fear of losing Merlin was warring with Arthur’s common sense that had kept him from even so much as looking at Merlin for too long so that his feelings for his servant wouldn‘t be caught out in the open for any public eye to see. But now, his mouth pressed up against Merlin’s again, his hands began urging, and lifting, tugging at the ties of Merlin’s breeches. The idea of resisting this, of keeping himself from it and waiting until it was nearly snatched away- was so stupid. He cursed himself for a coward, for waiting so long to reach for what he wanted.

Merlin groaned, as Arthur’s hand curled around his hard cock. He dropped his head to Arthur’s shoulder and his panting breath heated the side of Arthur‘s neck.

Gently, with a touch more tender than anyone would have thought possible of him, Arthur stroked his fingers up and down the length.

Merlin arched, his head tilted back, exposing his pale throat to Arthur who took happy advantage to suck and lick and bite, using his free hand to pull off the handkerchief that covered too much skin.

“Ar…thur,” whispered Merlin, his voice echoing the fine tremble of his body.

“Shhh,” said Arthur. He was keenly aware that anything louder would catch the guards’ attention. He flicked his gaze to the door and then back to Merlin.

Merlin bit his lips, and nodded in understanding. Then Merlin’s hands went for Arthur’s own breeches, undoing the ties with surprising dexterity.

Arthur’s cock sprang from out of the confines of his breeches and into Merlin’s eagerly waiting hand. Arthur groaned and dropped his head against Merlin’s shoulder. He panted rapidly and Merlin palmed his length, sweeping his thumb in against the crown in a delicate spiral inwards, until the wetness at the tip glistened on his finger.

“Merlin,” Arthur groaned, husky and pained. “Don‘t stop.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Oh, now you get agreeable,” said Arthur. He bit at Merlin’s ear, and tightened his grip on Merlin’s cock, twisting his wrist.

Whatever comeback Merlin had thought up was kept inside as his mouth clicked closed.

Arthur lost himself in the feel of Merlin’s hands against him, of hot slick skin against his palm, the smooth wet kiss of Merlin’s mouth. Finally his heart and breath ratcheted up and he came against Merlin. Merlin pressed up against Arthur’s groin, the movements of his hips became erratic and he came with a muffled shout.

They both panted, feeling the cool air of the cell chilling the sweat on their skin.

Arthur tensed to move away but Merlin’s hands came up to Arthur’s face. They were trembling, such fine shaking that Arthur would never had noticed if they hadn’t been so close to his eyes. Those long fingered hands, which had always struck Arthur as incredibly elegant for a commoner, stroked his mouth, his cheeks, and the delicate skin under his eyes.

There was so much wonder in Merlin’s eyes that the sarcastic comments that bubbled up in Arthur’s throat turned to ashes in his mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned into the caress. Feeling bitter and more than a little heart-broken that he hadn’t even been able to offer Merlin the dignity of a bed, taking him like a whore against a wall as they did in the alleys of the poorest section of Camelot.

“I will do whatever it takes to save you,” he promised into those hands, and hoped with all he was, crown prince of Camelot, knight and protector of the land, that he would be able to uphold this oath. An oath he would have written out in his life-blood if he thought that would make it more binding.

Arthur kissed Merlin once more before pulling away and making himself presentable to public eyes. He had to bat away at Merlin’s helping hands, because the touch of them on his skin was too distracting.

“We have to come up with a plan,” Arthur said, sitting next to Merlin on the straw strewn floor.

“There‘s always my book of magic,” said Merlin. He leaned against Arthur.

“More magic?” Arthur gave Merlin an incredulous look. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”

Merlin just looked stubborn.

Arthur sighed, “Fine. Fine. Tell me this plan of yours. At least, with me fixing it, it won‘t be too stupid.”  
*-*-*-*

Arthur thanked providence, or whatever looked out for fools and the princes that cared for them, that his father hadn’t sent anyone to check Merlin’s room for magical items. Yet. Doubtlessly, he’d remember soon, so Arthur didn’t have any time to waste.

Arthur was deeply grateful that Gaius wasn’t around. He didn’t want to have to face the older man’s heartbreak. Merlin had told him that Gaius had been protecting him from the first day he’d shown up in Camelot. The last thing Arthur wanted to see now was how devastated the man had to be with Merlin in the cells and scheduled for execution.

He could barely tolerate the burden of his own emotions without the addition of the weight of Gaius’s sorrow.

Arthur pushed open the door to Merlin’s bedroom, frowning at the usual mess that covered the floor and bed. No wonder he hadn’t been able to find a magic book in this pigsty last time. It was amazing that Merlin ever found anything clean to wear.

Arthur shook his head and looked for the loose floorboard near the bed. It was exactly where Merlin said it would be. He pulled out the book and gazed at it with despair. It was much bigger than he’d thought it would be. How in the world was he going to get it past the guards and into Merlin’s hands? There were many things he could order them to do. But he would never be able to get them to ignore a magic book being handed into the waiting arms of a known sorcerer. He didn’t want to test how far the guards’ loyalty to him extended, their allegiance should be first and foremost to the king, as was proper. This was a situation where Arthur couldn’t risk finding out that he had reached the limit of the loyalty that he could command as the prince.

Arthur dropped his head and gritted his teeth as he tried to force his mind to come up with a solution, anything even remotely plausible but he just kept drawing a blank.

Then he thought of Morgana and Guinevere. The hope they represented made his breath rapid and his heart beat faster. Gwen had once sneaked out the Mortaeus flower to save Merlin’s life, maybe she could do something similar once again.  
*-*-*-*

He found the girls in Morgana’s rooms.

Arthur had walked in without bothering to knock and their tear-streaked expression told him what they had been doing since escaping from the great hall.

“You!” shouted Morgana, as she stood radiating fury like a goddess of vengeance about to strike a deathblow. “How could you do this to Merlin? After all he‘s done for you! He saved your ungrateful life!”

Arthur gave her an exasperated look. He didn‘t have time for girlish hysterics, so before Morgana could rant even more he cut her off with a firmly stated, “I need your help.”

He pulled out the magic book he’d hidden in one of spare cloaks that he’d also found in Merlin’s room. It had made a rather obvious bundle in his arms but hopefully one that could be easily dismissed by anyone who caught sight of him in the halls.

Morgana’s mouth closed, her eyes wide in shock.

Arthur, had it not been such a dire situation, would have smirked in victory at getting in the last word with Morgana. Instead, he just said desperately, “I can‘t do this on my own.”

Morgana was still stunned to silence. It forced Gwen to be the one to ask, “What do you need us to do? We‘ll do anything to help Merlin.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said in relief.

“Thank us after we‘ve saved his life,” Morgana said, finally battling past her surprise to speak.

Arthur nodded. “Then we have a lot of work to do. First, ” he revealed the book of magic to their eyes, “I need a way to get this past the guards and into Merlin‘s hands.”

Morgana and Gwen exchanged looks.

Morgana pulled the book out of Arthur’s hands, and he resisted the urge to claim it back.

She opened it, flipping past the pages, “Do you know which spell Merlin needs?”

Arthur shook his head, “He told me he needs to look at the book to find the right spell.”

Morgana frowned, “If we knew which one he needed all you would need to sneak in is the page, not an entire book.”

“I thought of that already,” grumbled Arthur. “The idiot doesn‘t know which spell he needs or even if there is one he can use. That‘s why he needs the entire bloody thing.”

Morgana and Gwen exchanged looks again.

“Well,” Gwen said cautiously. “I have an idea for how to get it past the guards.”

Arthur’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, you have a lot of experience if smuggling items around the castle, Guinevere?”

Gwen flushed and looked down at her hands.

Morgana gave Arthur a scathing look.

“Never mind,” Arthur said hastily. “Don‘t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Gwen just flushed to a darker shade of red. “We’re going to need to get you suited up in your armor,” she said. “And- well- I‘ll need to help you.”

Morgana nodded, clearly seeing where Gwen was heading, Arthur was just bewildered.

“I‘ll go back to the great hall and be the distraction,” Morgana said firmly. “Uther is going to start asking where you are, Arthur. This way I‘ll be able to buy you more time.”

Arthur nodded. It was a rather good idea, he’d been worried about getting a summons from his father. Morgana was certain to provide an excellent distraction. The shouting alone would probably be loud enough to reach down into the dungeon cells. He almost felt sympathy for his father.

“Just don‘t mess this up,” she continued sharply. She straightened her skirts and went to her room to clear up the tear streaks from her face.

Arthur rolled his eyes at her back. “Don‘t get yourself thrown into the dungeon either. That‘s the last thing we need,” he retorted.

Gwen smiled at them. Arthur dismissed Morgana with a snort and turned back to Gwen.

“So, exactly why do I need my armor?” he asked her.  
*-*-*-*

Arthur stood straight, letting Gwen adjust the fall of his mail over his shoulders She strapped his pauldron to his right shoulder, tightening the straps with sure knowledge. She double checked the tightness of the vambraces before stepping back with a satisfied nod.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. She hadn’t made a single mistake in armoring him. Arthur hadn’t expected that.

“My father,” she said in answer to his unspoken question. “I learned from him.”

“And you taught Merlin,” Arthur realized. He had wondered how Merlin had known what to do, back when Arthur had hoped to use his inexperience to get Merlin dismissed from his service.

“Yes,” she gave him a watery smile.

“So, exactly how am I supposed to get the book to Merlin again?” asked Arthur after a moment, alarmed that she would start crying at him. Over Merlin or her father, Arthur couldn’t guess which, possibly both. For a moment, he wished Morgana was here. He’d be able to shove Guinevere at her and have nothing to do with a weeping woman.

“Ah!” Gwen grabbed a extra pair of leather straps that were available should the ones Arthur wore break or wear thin. She quickly tied them together and vanished at Arthur’s back.

Arthur’s eyebrows went up again as the press of Gwen’s hands pushed him forward. She grabbed the book from where it had been resting and vanished from Arthur’s view again. He tried to look over his shoulder at her.

“No, stay still,” she admonished him. “I- I mean, please stay still, sire.”

Amused, Arthur let her at it.

Finally, Gwen grabbed the long red cape and tied it to him. She stepped away from him, letting Arthur see her again.

“There,” Gwen said. “As long as you are wearing the cape, then no one will see the book attached to your back.”

“So, why couldn‘t we do this with just a cloak?” asked Arthur.

“You need an excuse to be near Merlin as long as possible,” Gwen said. “You can say that you’re guarding him. Anyway, the shape of the hauberk and the rest of the plate armor changes the shape of your back so that the book won’t be so easily recognized.”

“Clever,” noted Arthur. “Now, if only some of your smarts would rub off on Merlin.”

Gwen’s mouth quirked, not at all offended on Merlin’s behalf because the affection in Arthur voice was clear.

“Go to him,” she said urgently, as she handed Arthur his sword. “Time is running out.”


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur stalked through the corridors of Camelot heading for the cells. His determination created an aura of danger about him that made any lingering eyes look away, in case it drew down his wrath upon them.

He walked past the guards at the entrance of the dungeon cells without stopping or slowing down. They didn’t dare protest. If anything, they straightened up at the sight of their commander in his armor with his sword sheathed at his side, reminding them of their lower status as clearly as a crown upon Arthur’s head.

Arthur entered Merlin’s cell with one of the keys from the ring he carried at his hip. Merlin’s head rose at the sound of metal on metal. He could see Merlin’s blue eyes widen as he took in Arthur, resplendent in plate and mail. He walked into the cell, making sure to close the door behind him, and double checking that the guards had remained at their posts. They hadn’t moved. Good.

“Where‘s the book?” asked Merlin, as he stood.

“Shhh,” Arthur hissed. He pulled back the cape, letting Merlin glimpse the edge of the book strapped to his back. Merlin made a low pleased sound and reached for it. Arthur stood still as Merlin pulled it free from the harness Gwen had made with the leather straps.

“How did you do that?” Merlin asked, in amazement. He began undoing the straps to free the book from Arthur’s back.

“Guinevere and Morgana,” admitted Arthur. “Did you know your friend has a secret side as a smuggler?”

“Gwen’s a what?” said Merlin, outrage making his voice loud.

Arthur clamped his hands over Merlin’s mouth. He instantly regretted the leather gauntlets that kept him from feeling the heat and shape of Merlin’s mouth under his palm.

Merlin’s eyes glared hotly at Arthur, the book cradled in his arms was the only thing that kept him from shoving Arthur away.

Arthur rolled his eyes at him. “Do you think you can focus?” he hissed. He slowly pulled his hand back from Merlin’s mouth to reveal a fierce scowl. “You have the book. Find the spell you need.”

Merlin gave him a narrow suspicious look, before sitting down onto the thickest clump of straw, opening the book and flipping through the pages. Arthur watched him slow down, then start reading the book with careful concentration. Merlin’s brow furrowed and his fingers traced the pages for a moment before flipping over to the next page, clearly not finding what he wanted.

Arthur went back to the door to double check the guards. If they were discovered with the book, Arthur would find himself thrown into a cell or even locked into his rooms until his father was satisfied that he’d learned his lesson. Which wouldn’t end until long after Merlin had been executed.

He noted that they were still guarding the entrance to the dungeon, then Arthur walked back to Merlin. Yet he didn’t relax, he was feeling too tense, and too full of energy to simply stand still.

He started pacing.

“Arthur, you‘re making me anxious,” said Merlin.

Arthur stopped and glared down at him. There was a hint of a smile to Merlin’s face, obviously remembering the last time those words were passed between them.

“Have you found it yet?” asked Arthur, rolling his eyes.

Merlin’s eye flickered down to his book, the smile still on his face, but he nodded.

Arthur slowly let out a breath, some of the tension going with it. He joined Merlin on the floor. Merlin didn’t say anything for a moment, just leaned against Arthur’s side. Arthur had to resist the need to wrap an arm around him. It wouldn’t be comfortable for Merlin with Arthur wearing his plate. He did lean back though, allowing himself and Merlin that comfort while wishing he hadn’t needed to wear to armor to sneak in the book.

“I actually found two spells that I could use,” Merlin explained. His fingers tapped the page, before flipping over to another section of the book. Arthur looked over, seeing odd writing that was nonsense to his eyes. “The first one will get me out of Camelot, maybe as far away as Ealdor. But-”

“But-?” Arthur asked.

Merlin bit his lower lip, his eyes anguished. “I wouldn‘t be able to come back to Camelot again.”

Arthur’s breath caught. The idea of that was nearly as horrible as Merlin being executed. Almost. He could live with it if Arthur knew that Merlin lived. He said, “If that‘s the only option-”

“Well, there‘s the second spell,” Merlin continued. “It would take more concentration. It _shouldn‘t_ harm anyone. I think it should be one that will-”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted. “Stop babbling. What’s the spell?”

“The spell is a memory spell. It would block the memories of everyone so they wouldn‘t remember seeing me do magic,” he finally explained.

Arthur was impressed. Something that would hit so many people all at once? He hadn’t even heard of such a thing before. Even the Afanc that had poisoned the water hadn’t affected everyone at once, it had taken time to affect all its victims. Even the unicorn‘s curse had only affected crops, then the water, and not the people. It made him wonder exactly how much power it would take, and if Merlin could pull it off.

“Can you do it?” he asked. This was the best solution in Arthur’s opinion. It would be the one that would keep Merlin in Camelot.

“Yes, I think so,” said Merlin. “I need to study the spell to be certain.”

“Very well,” Arthur said. “That will be the first thing you try. If it doesn‘t work-” Arthur swallowed with a hollow feeling in his gut, “-if it doesn’t work use the other spell in order to get away.”

Merlin nodded in agreement and bent his head over the book.

As Merlin focused on his task, Arthur tried to think of what he’d need to do if Merlin’s magic failed him. Merlin would need provisions, weapons, or maybe even a horse, if Arthur could sneak one away from the stables. He’d need wealth. Money would be the only thing that would allow Merlin to cross the boundaries of kingdoms, to bribe guards, to pay for lodgings and food. Merlin wouldn’t be able to stay in Ealdor. His father knew where Merlin had come from. Arthur wasn’t certain if knowing that Ealdor was in another kingdom would keep Uther from striking at the village in revenge for having raised a sorcerer. If it had been a situation that hadn’t involved magic then Arthur would have been confident in saying no. His father would not risk war. Since it did involve magic - well, the possibility of war was the most likely outcome. Arthur would have to do anything he could to minimize that situation. Not only for Merlin’s sake, but also for Camelot and the blood of its people that would be shed in such unnecessary war.

He wondered if he could get Morgana to lend her voice to such protests. Arthur could say this for his foster sister - she was impossible to ignore when she was determined to voice her opinions. He would rather have her at his side in such an argument than clashing against him.

“Arthur, I don‘t think I can do this,” Merlin said, throwing Arthur out of his mental plans.

Arthur gave him a frustrated look. “You just said you could.”

Merlin’s expression was grave. “I _can_ do it. But-”

“But what?” Arthur asked, exasperated. It was well into the night, dawn was only a couple of hours away and they were quickly running out of time.

“I have a lot of power, but my control isn‘t that great yet. I wouldn‘t be able to target the memory spell to specific individuals. It‘ll hit everyone in the castle.”

Arthur frowned in puzzlement as to why this would be a concern but then realization dawned. He said quietly, “Even me.”

Merlin nodded and dropped his head to stare at the page in his hands.

Arthur looked at him for a moment before saying quietly, “Merlin. Do you honestly think that I would rather keep my memory than have you remain alive? The king, my father, is going to have your head chopped off in the morning. He’s probably already informed the executioner to begin the preparations.”

Merlin flinched.

“You will do this spell,” ordered Arthur.

“I don‘t want you to forget,” admitted Merlin. He blushed, “I don‘t want you to forget… us,” he waved at the wall Arthur had pressed him up against, where he had kissed him, and made him come nearly hard enough to pass out.

“I don‘t want to forget either,” admitted Arthur, after a moment. “That‘s why you‘ll have to tell me.” Arthur knelt by Merlin’s side, the straw cushioning his knees against the stone floor. “Your memory will remain intact, right?”

Merlin nodded, “Yes. I‘m pretty certain that it wouldn‘t affect me.”

“Then, you‘ll have to tell me,” Arthur said. “Don‘t let me remain a coward.”

“You‘re not a coward!” denied Merlin hotly.

Arthur felt a warmth in his gut at the passion in Merlin’s voice, feeling both proud and humbled by his loyalty. “The way that I feel about you. It didn‘t just spring into life today,” Arthur said, he looked off to the side, feeling embarrassed at the admission. “I‘ve been feeling this way for a while now. I just haven‘t been able to face it. I‘m a prince! And you‘re… well… you‘re you. I‘ve just been refusing to even acknowledge it to myself.”

Arthur’s eyes flickered back to see how Merlin took this. Merlin just looked stunned.

Arthur was amused. Sarcastically he asked, “What? You thought I just had a fetish for prison cells?”

“Well no, not exactly,” said Merlin, his cheeks turning pink. His eyes flickered over to the wall and back to Arthur. The color of his cheeks deepened into wine red.

Arthur snorted and smacked the back of Merlin’s head. Arthur knew exactly what perverted thoughts he was thinking.

“Well, think of it this way. If you don‘t tell me, it will never happen again,” Arthur said dryly, and a trifle smugly.

Merlin’s eyes widened and he nodded in frantic agreement. Arthur laughed, low and warm, and caught Merlin’s head by the chin to kiss him just one more time. He would not remember this, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t cherish it while the memory of it remained.

Merlin pulled him closer, and Arthur balanced carefully so as to not fall upon him while fully armored. And he wished yet again that the hauberk and plate hadn’t been necessary. It would take too much effort for Merlin to remove them from his body. The noise that it would make would draw down the guards for certain.

Then all their planning and efforts to save Merlin’s life would be for naught.

But for now, he focused on the warm wet feel of Merlin’s mouth. He licked Merlin’s slick teeth with barely restrained passion. Merlin moaned, the vibrations catching in Arthur’s throat. Merlin’s tongue slipped brazenly into Arthur’s mouth. The firm feel made Arthur’s eyes close simply to savor the heat of him, the live feel of Merlin so intimately against him, in him, and deeply wished that they had more time.

Reluctantly, Arthur pushed Merlin away. He grabbed the book where it had been resting near Merlin’s feet and handed it to him.

“Use the spell,” Arthur ordered.

Arthur watched Merlin take in a deep breath. Then his expression firmed in determination. Merlin started chanting, _“ingemynd béon nánuht ac sídan ac léohtfæt. sceadwiau ingemynd of þes nihtbealu.”_

Arthur braced himself, even though he knew such an action was useless. He was unable to stop himself from reacting after a life-time of facing magic as a foe. Even knowing Merlin meant him no harm, the feel of power building up as a low buzz against his skin was unnerving.

Nothing happened.

Arthur arched his eyebrows at Merlin, who flushed. Merlin admitted, “Sometimes it takes a little practicing before I get a spell to work right.”

“Some big scary sorcerer you turned out to be,” Arthur said sarcastically. “Why am I not surprised you‘re as terrible at being a sorcerer as you are being a servant.” Arthur straightened abruptly, “Wait! Then how did you manage to get the spell to save me from the sorcerer right? He didn‘t exactly give you a chance to practice.”

“Luck?” said Merlin, he scratched at his head and peeked at Arthur through the dark fringe of his hair.

Arthur stared back. “ _Luck?_ You risked my _life_ on luck?” he asked, outraged.

“ _My_ life too,” Merlin reminded him. Merlin had been the one standing between the sorcerer and Arthur when the spell had been cast.

“Right,” sighed Arthur. “Try again.” He grumbled under his breath about moronic sorcerers.

Merlin nodded and the words rolled over them again, and again and again.

Until his blue eyes flashed bright and golden and then everything in Arthur’s world went white before fading to black.  
*-*-*-*

Arthur groaned and covered his face with his forearm. However even that slight shift made everything hurt more.

He felt like the one and only time he’d been foolish enough to get too close enough to a blood maddened warhorse, receiving a kick to his chest. It had been a glancing blow, but it had left him hurting for days. This had the same deep ache to it. The only difference was that the pain was right inside his head and in every muscle in his body.

Arthur lay on his back. The softness at his back and the familiar scent in the air clued him in that he was in his own rooms. He considered the benefits of actually opening his eyes for a long moment.

Finally, he slowly cracked his eyes open, which made him deeply regret trying. Cursing, he clamped his eyes shut. The light had felt like a flaming lance, right into his brain, making the pain double in intensity.

“You‘re awake!”

“That‘s blatantly obvious,” gritted Arthur. Merlin’s voice actually made the pain worse. “Oh god, do shut up,” he moaned softly, not even managing to sharpen an edge to his voice. He pulled the covers over his head and huddled his head against his pillows, so Merlin’s whispered apology didn’t make his head scream.

Merlin left him alone, doing something, no doubt incompetently around Arthur’s room. Not that Arthur could bring himself to care. Merlin could have set the bed on fire and Arthur would not have moved.

Arthur tried to force his thoughts into some form of coherency. What had happened last night? Everything was a blank right up until-

“Sorcerer!” he shouted, sitting up abruptly. Arthur’s head instantly started pounding with greater intensity. His head throbbed and threatened to burst apart like a rotten fruit. It took all his self control not to whimper pathetically. The prince of Camelot did not whimper. Even when he really, really wanted to.

Merlin dropped something off to Arthur’s side. High-pitched, he asked, “What?”

“Not here,” groaned Arthur, he pressed his hands to his face. “Last night. There was a sorcerer. He attacked the court.”

“Oh, that sorcerer.”

“Yes. That sorcerer,” Arthur glared blearily in Merlin’s general direction - there seemed to be more than one of him. That was rather terrifying. “Exactly how many sorcerers do you think there are Camelot?”

“Um-”

“Forget it,” Arthur shoved himself up. “I need to get dressed, I need to see my father.”

Arthur’s legs were rather weak and shaky but he forced himself to stand straight. Through sheer will-power he remained upright, but he could not stop the swaying.

Merlin’s hands hovered at his side, but Arthur batted them away. He wasn‘t going to fall over! He just needed a moment to catch his breath. He noticed absently that he was still wearing the clothes he’d worn at the banquet instead of his sleep clothes.

“What happened last night?” Arthur asked, after a moment, as the room stopped tilting back and forth and the double Merlins fused into one. Much better.

Merlin said slowly, as if testing how the words sounded in his head before he said them out loud, “The entire castle was knocked unconscious by magic.”

“I figured that out,” snapped Arthur. He winced and put his hand back to his head.

“Some of us woke up sooner,” continued Merlin, as if Arthur hadn’t said a word. “So, we moved everyone to their rooms where they‘d be more comfortable.”

“And you couldn‘t put me in my sleep clothes?”

Merlin's cheeks turned red. “Not while you were unconscious!” he yelped.

Arthur shot him a bemused and puzzled look. “Why not? You‘ve done it before.”

Merlin just shook his head, turning a brighter shade of red.

“Alright,” Arthur said slowly, his head aching too much to try to make sense of Merlin’s convoluted thought processes.

“Get me a new set of clothes. I can‘t see my father wearing these,” Arthur ordered.  
*-*-*-*

The next few days went by quickly. Arthur spent them riding out to trying to track down any trail of the sorcerer who’d knocked out the entire court, no matter how nebulous it seemed.

Uther had been furious that the sorcerer had escaped. After the shouting tapered off, he’d then ordered Arthur and every single knight that could be spared from protecting Camelot out to the countryside and outlaying villages, to see if there was anyone who knew the sorcerer and where he could be found. Yet no matter how intently Arthur questioned innkeepers and village leaders nothing turned up. Arthur had even sent messengers with descriptions of the sorcerer to their allies to try to flush out any hint of where he could have gone to ground.

Only to turn up nothing.

It got to the point that his frustration with the task made Arthur so surly that his own knights began keeping a respectful distance, close enough to still provide protection to their prince but far enough away to avoid getting hit by the fallout of his slowly deepening bad humor.

Every time Arthur returned to Camelot to re-supply and report on his findings, or lack of findings in all honesty, his temper would only grow worse. His father’s commentary on Arthur’s search was becoming unbearable, until the only measure of relief Arthur was able to get was in the sanctuary of his own chambers.

That is, until he realized that Merlin was acting strange, well, stranger than usual. Merlin was always strange. Arthur found himself growing increasingly bewildered by the looks Merlin kept giving him. Merlin, already the worst servant Arthur had ever had, seemed to be trying to reach new and unparalleled lows in service.

Also, he kept noticing Merlin looking at him with a fascination that kept catching Arthur off-guard. He was used to Merlin shooting him glares, mockingly servile agreeable nods, and sarcastic smirks. Now, Merlin was looking at him like Arthur was an amazing and wonderful person. The sort of look that Arthur was accustomed in seeing on the faces of others, but never, ever an expression he’d seen on Merlin, well, outside of a tournament match.

It made his heart race just thinking of it.

It wasn’t until the fifth trip back from looking for the sorcerer that Arthur was finally able to convince his father that the sorcerer had to have slipped beyond Camelot’s reach, because no trace of him could be found within its borders or those of their allies.

It had been an exhausting search, and all Arthur wanted was a hot bath and a full meal.

Upon reaching his chambers, Arthur noticed that Merlin was nowhere to be found. Arthur wasn‘t exactly surprised, though he was irritated at the inconvenience. With him spending so much time out of Camelot, Gaius had been using Merlin to run errands. While the sorcerer’s spell had fortunately caused no fatalities, people had fallen where they’d been standing since it had hit them without warning. There were quite a few injuries as a result, broken bones, bruises, and the worst injury was a cook who’d fallen too close to a fire and developed burns to the point of blistering along half her body. Arthur knew this because Gaius had delivered his report to the king when requesting funds for more pain-killing ingredients at a time that Arthur had been in attendance. The list of wounded had made Arthur grateful that he’d gotten away only with a sore head and a minor split lip.

Merlin was probably spending his time helping deliver potions, poultices, or gathering any plants that Gaius would need to treat his patients.

Arthur was too tired to go about tracking down his manservant, especially since Arthur couldn’t even be certain Merlin was still within the castle walls, so he ordered another servant to bring him food and get a bath ready for him.

As he waited, Arthur pondered the possibility of ordering Merlin to be placed in the stocks for the next week, if only because doing so would be entertaining and Arthur could use the laugh. A good servant would have been waiting for his master’s return, ready to leap into action at any possible order. Merlin should have been waiting for him.

He wasn’t sulking.

Arthur pondered the mental image of Merlin leaping to obey any of his orders without some sort of insolent commentary and snorted in amusement. While an entertaining thought, it was pure fantasy. As if Merlin could ever learn to be servile.

But then, his service skills weren’t why Arthur kept Merlin around. For all that he called Merlin the worst servant he’d ever had, Arthur was also certain that he was the best company. There was a reason that he dragged Merlin along with him on his hunts, and it was simply that Arthur enjoyed everything a lot more when Merlin was there with him. Even if he was complaining every step of the way and made hunting rabbits as difficult a task as hunting wild boar.

Arthur shook those thoughts from his head and then struggled to get out of his jacket. His muscles ached from riding all day, for too many days in a row. Arthur swore as the ties of his breeches knotted. He grabbed his nearby food knife and cut through the gnarled mess, too impatient to try to pick it apart. He stank of horse and road dust, and he could not tolerate it another moment longer.

“What are you doing?”

Arthur jerked around at Merlin’s voice. Only his long cultivated awareness of the danger posed by a blade kept him from cutting himself. As it was he got a little too close to slicing himself.

It didn’t stop him from swearing at Merlin.

“Damn it! For the last time, learn to knock!” Arthur glared. He had to resist the urge to fling his knife at Merlin‘s head.

Merlin’s eyes went wide as he saw the knife and the mutilated state of Arthur’s breeches.

He moved rapidly to Arthur, his hands reaching out, fingers working nimbly to get Arthur free of his clothes. Arthur jerked again before stilling. Merlin’s eyes looked at what he was doing, neatly avoiding Arthur’s gaze. Yet Merlin’s cheeks started pinking up, and Arthur’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

It had been months since Merlin had last become embarrassed at having to undress him. If fact, Merlin had succeeded in getting over his embarrassment in less than a week, something that had irritated Arthur at the time because he‘d enjoyed making Merlin stumble and turn beet red. It baffled Arthur to see Merlin blushing for no apparent reason.

It wasn’t like Merlin had caught Arthur enjoying the attentions of a chambermaid, or an agreeable lady.

Arthur added this to the list of peculiar ways Merlin was acting.

His breath suddenly caught in his throat at the feel of Merlin’s fingertips leaving warm trails across his stomach. His heart started beating fast again. Merlin was _caressing_ his skin. There was no mistake.

Arthur froze.

His mind went blank and he stared down at Merlin with wide eyes.

Merlin didn’t seem to realize what he was doing.

God. _Merlin._

“Merlin,” he croaked. His stomach muscles were tightening. It was all he could do not to start panting.

Blue eyes jerked to Arthur and he could see the exact moment Merlin realized what he was doing.

“Oh god, I‘m sorry! I didn‘t mean-”

“Wait-” but Merlin was already backing away and out the door.

Leaving Arthur, alone with his breeches unlaced and slipping down his thighs. His skin felt cold, apart from where Merlin’s fingers had left trails of heat.

 _What_ the _hell_ had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old English Words translate to:   
> [Memories are naught but silk and light.   
> Cover in shadow those of this night.]
> 
> But I’m certain I massacred the language.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur debated hunting down Merlin to question him, but the siren call of his hot bath was more tempting. So he finished peeling himself out of his soiled clothes before sinking into the hot water. He sighed in delight as steam rose in pale curls around his body. Muscles that had been tense and knotted from the very first day of hunting the sorcerer, only growing worse as the days had gone by, finally loosened.

There was even a meal of cold cuts, bread and red wine waiting at the table. However even with all these comforts, Arthur didn't feel content. His mind kept flickering back to the memory of Merlin's touch. It made him harden just thinking about it, wondering how far Merlin would have gone if only he hadn't stopped. If only he hadn’t said Merlin’s name and made Merlin realize what he’d been doing.

It hadn’t taken long for Arthur to admit to himself, after the surprise of Merlin’s actions had worn off, that he hadn’t wanted Merlin to stop. If Merlin only hadn't been so obviously distressed by his actions, Arthur wouldn’t be in his bath right now. Or at least, not alone.

Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about it, running the scene over and over again in his head. A softly blushing Merlin with his long fingers touching Arthur. Making Arthur wonder how Merlin’s mouth would feel under his own.

Would the kiss be soft? Or would Merlin’s lips be firm, his tongue strong? Would Merlin fight his kisses with the same insolent regard he had to Arthur’s royal status? Wound they be driven by that fire that Arthur had first seen in his eyes when Merlin demanded he stop teasing one of his servants?

This wasn’t the first time that Arthur had found himself having carnal thoughts about a servant or even the first time he’d such thoughts about Merlin, of all people. The only thing that surprised Arthur about it was the intensity of his own feelings.

He wanted Merlin. He knew that Merlin was attractive. It was impossible not to notice and he'd been aware of it from the first ,when Merlin had so casually insulted him. Even his worn, peasant clothes hadn't hidden his healthy skin, his whole white teeth, and his blue eyes that had glowed with intelligence and determination. They had caught Arthur's attention so intensely that when they met again, Arthur wasn't able to let him walk away. He wasn't able to just dismiss Merlin from his thought.

But now it was more than that simple first flush of lust. Arthur cared for Merlin. More than he should. More than he could explain away as the relationship of a master and his loyal servant. He couldn’t deny to himself anymore that he did care for Merlin to a degree that he found hard to define. Arthur had defied his father, his king, for Merlin. Had done so more than once, which was something he would not do casually, or for just anyone. The only other person who could command his loyalty to such a degree was Morgana.

And Arthur certainly didn’t see Merlin as a sibling, even a foster sibling.

Arthur sank his head into the water, but it didn’t make the situation seem any clearer. He couldn’t guess what had led to Merlin practically molesting him and sparking his own feelings to such a fervor he felt as though he would be consumed by them.

His insistent hard-on certainly hadn’t gone away by him ignoring it.

With a groan, Arthur wrapped his hand around his erection, closing his eyes and letting himself sink back into the tub. He thought about the long line of Merlin’s neck, his teasing grin that made his eyes sparkle, how his mouth would look sucking down Arthur’s cock.

Panting, Arthur moved his hand faster.

Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. All he wanted was Merlin. On his knees, on his back or even pressing Arthur down.

He wanted him.

Arthur came with a groan, his spine arching him out of the water until he sank back down. Nearly drowning from the drowsy glow of satisfaction from a good orgasm.

All due to Merlin.

 _Bloody hell._ He was in trouble.  
*-*-*-*

It wasn’t until the next morning, when Merlin didn’t show up for his duties, that Arthur decided to track him down.

It certainly didn’t mean anything that it took him until mid-day to get around to doing so.

Arthur figured that Merlin would still be involved in running errands for Gaius, so he headed there first. As Arthur approached Gaius’s workroom, he could hear Gaius’s voice rumbling down the hall. It wasn’t until he was at the door that his voice became distinct.

“Oh my boy,” Gaius murmured, his voice low and anguished.

It was that tone more than anything else which made Arthur pause at the door. He pushed lightly at the door to open it enough for him to peer inside. Arthur leaned in cautiously and he could see Merlin swept up in an embrace. He couldn’t see Merlin’s face but Gaius’s face was so pained and grey that Arthur froze in place.

Tears were slipping slowly down the weathered cheeks and Arthur was struck by the realization that this was something personal that he had no right to see.

“I‘d do it again in a heartbeat, Gaius. I‘m sorry but I would,” Merlin said.

“I know my boy. And I‘m proud of you, don‘t you ever think otherwise,” whispered Gaius. His eyes closed and his arms wrapped tighter around Merlin.

Those words forced Arthur to draw back. He really did have no right to listen to this. He could put off having Merlin explain himself to a later date. Truly, Gaius had the greater right to his time, and Arthur would not usurp it. So Arthur turned and carefully walked away, making certain each step fell silently, as if he’d never been there or heard words he wasn’t meant to hear.

He stayed away this time and didn’t see Merlin until supper time.

When Merlin came through the door his expression was set in determination the likes which Arthur only saw when Merlin was about to do something stupid.

Arthur instantly became alert.

“Arthur, I promised I‘d do this.”

Arthur frowned at him.

Merlin raised his hand, palm towards Arthur, and his blue eyes flashed over to gold.

Arthur stared at him, stunned. “You’re a sorcerer,” he said, dumbfounded.

Merlin chanted a series of foreign words that slid through the air like silk ribbons.

Arthur’s breath caught and he stood up, reaching for his knife when the room started rotating.

If felt as if he was reliving that awful night, knowing that Merlin was going to be killed by the command of his own father and needing to do anything possible to stop it from happing. Only the shock of it freezing him in place kept him from reacting.

When everything finally stopped spinning and jumping, Arthur dared to open his eyes again.

Merlin sat by his side looking down at him, his expression worried and his hands hovering just inches above Arthur’s body but not daring to touch as if he thought his touch would be un-welcomed. Arthur idly wondered when he had hit the floor and if Merlin had caught him.

Arthur’s head throbbed with a dull pain but most importantly he _remembered_. He stared up at Merlin, memories swirling in his head, matching up and making sense of the last few days.

So, that’s why he couldn’t find a _single_ trace of the damned sorcerer no matter how hard he looked.

“What took you so long?” frowned Arthur at Merlin.

“Are you alright?” asked Merlin. His hands pressed to Arthur head again, as if he could check for damage with his touch.

Maybe he could, thought Arthur. He had succeeded in striking all of the castle down with only one spell. Merlin’s hands felt cool and perfect against his aching head.

“All I have is a headache,” said Arthur. He closed his eyes and leaned against Merlin’s touch.

Merlin sighed in relief. “That‘s good! I can‘t tell how close I came to not-” Merlin cut himself off abruptly.

Arthur stiffened. He opened his eyes and stared Merlin.

“Finish that sentence,” he ordered, his voice stiff.

“It doesn‘t matter,” Merlin said.

“Merlin, what were you going to say?” Arthur asked, dread making his guts feel cold and tight.

Merlin was silent.

“You hadn‘t planned on telling me,” Arthur finally answered for him. Anger made his fists clench. He scowled at Merlin. He couldn’t believe this. After all his effort to save his ungrateful hide, Merlin had the temerity to try to keep him in the dark about his powers.

“No, I didn‘t.” Merlin said. “But it‘s not what you think!”

Arthur swayed, feeling as if the words had been physical blows, striking the air from his body and making his chest hurt. Blood roared in his ears and all he could hear was the echo of Merlin’s voice in his head saying ‘no.’

“You don‘t trust me,” Arthur said flatly.

“No!” Merlin protested. “That‘s not it. I just- ”

“What else could it be?” said Arthur, it was all he could do not to shout at Merlin. “Get out.” He had to get him away. _Now._ Before he did something he’d regret.

“Arthur, wait! Let me explain. I-” Merlin said as Arthur walked towards him.

In one movement, too angry to think, Arthur drew his belt knife and threw it at Merlin. The knife missed him by a hair, embedding itself into the wood of a cabinet door.

Merlin froze in place, his eyes wide.

“I said get out!” Arthur snarled.

Merlin nodded, shaken and pale. He closed the door behind him quietly while Arthur buried his face in his hands.

Merlin _hadn’t_ wanted him to remember.   
*-*-*-*

In the morning Arthur went to his father.

In the great hall, Arthur sat at the table for breakfast and asked to be given leave to take up the search for the sorcerer once more.

“Just a few days ago you were in here telling me that you were certain that the sorcerer was no longer in the kingdom. What made you change your mind?” Uther asked, his eyes narrowed and questioning.

Arthur bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I have considered the matter and have come to the conclusion that there are more venues to be searched. There are some independent homesteads, those of woodcutters and coal-makers who may have seen the sorcerer if he has chosen to hide himself in the forest.”

His father was silent as he drank from his goblet of wine. “Very well, I’m pleased that you are seeking this criminal with such fervency,” said Uther, a small smile upon his lips.

Arthur just inclined his head a touch further. All he wanted right now was to get out of Camelot, and away from the one sorcerer he knew exactly where to find. He’d already sent orders to prepare the horses and supplies.

He made it though the rest of the meal in silence. Morgana helped distract Uther by chatting cheerfully about her dresses. It was her default topic whenever she had nothing to talk about. Since she was expected to talk about it as a female she would often gleefully torment her listener, being able to go on and on for hours. Arthur had once seen her drive away a suitor who’d spent the first hour just staring at her breasts - by the fourth hour the man had practically thrown her at Gwen when she came close in order to make his escape.

Uther’s eyes were already glazing over and Arthur shot Morgana a grateful look. She inclined her head at him in acknowledgement, never once letting up her chatter.

Truly he would not want to ever be her enemy. With her covering his back, he was able to escape without further questioning by his father as soon as the meal was done.  
*-*-*-*

Arthur was checking the state of his horse when Merlin entered the stables.

“Arthur-”

“I‘ll be back in two days at noon, have my room ready with a bath and a meal at that time,” Arthur said, not looking at Merlin as he gave his orders.

“I‘m coming with you,” Merlin said.

Arthur finally turned to look, Merlin’s shoulders were tense and his expression was determined. His eyes practically glowed even in the dim lighting of the stables and they made Arthur’s breath catch in his throat. They made him ache with a longing that Arthur ruthlessly suppressed. He considered the futility of protesting. Merlin never listened to him when he didn’t feel like it. But then he thought about how he would feel with Merlin at his side for the next couple of days and decided it was more of a torment than he could take. Not so soon when his memories of the dungeon were so bright and vivid.

“No,” Arthur said flatly. He saddled up and glared down at Merlin. “And don‘t even think about following me.”

Arthur nudged his horse out, leaving Merlin behind looking frustrated and hurt. Arthur gave orders to the stable-hands that they release none of the horses to Merlin. He would throw them in the stocks if they did. Leaving them agreeing and bowing - respectful like servants should be - Arthur rode out of Camelot.

A few hours later, and miles away from the castle, Arthur wasn’t particularly surprised to notice he was being followed.

Merlin never knew when to give up. It was one of his more irritating qualities and one that _would_ get him time in the stocks as soon as they were back home.

Briefly, Arthur wished he had set out with a couple of knights. Arthur wasn’t actually intending to question anyone about a sorcerer and the last thing he needed was two knights whose reports would have pointed out that lack to his father. Neither did he want to waste their skills when they were better served protecting Camelot.

If he’d bothered, Arthur could have sent them back to scare a few years off Merlin’s life.

As it was, he waited until the road curved. With the forest on the side of the dirt road it became the perfect place for an ambush. Arthur left his horse further in to the trees before waiting behind a thick oak for Merlin to walk by.

Arthur hadn’t been riding hard, since he had no set course and he had let his horse’s speed remain at a walk. Slow enough that Merlin was able to follow him easily on foot.

It wasn’t until Merlin’s dark head came into view that Arthur realized he was glad to see him. He was still furious, hurt and wanted to shout at Merlin until he was hoarse, and yet seeing Merlin made his heart leap in his chest in absolute delight.

And Arthur knew that his feelings for Merlin were even deeper than he’d thought.

“When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it,” Arthur called.

Merlin jumped into the air, his eyes glowing with his magic as he hit the road, crouching down and staring in shock at Arthur.

Arthur stared at him stonily.

“Arthur! I‘ve been looking for you,” said Merlin.

“I know. You‘ve been following me since I left Camelot. You‘re not at all subtle, are you? How did you manage to last so long without being revealed as a sorcerer to my father?” asked Arthur. “Some god who looks out for morons must be keeping an eye on you.”

Merlin glared, then looked hurt, then glared again. “ _You_ never noticed,” he shot back.

Arthur crossed his arms in front of him. “Go back to Camelot. If you‘re worried about me telling my father, I give my word that I won‘t.”

“I wasn‘t worried about that!” said Merlin. “Damn it, you stubborn high born _prat!_ Let me explain!”

“There‘s nothing to explain,” said Arthur through gritted teeth, turning his back on Merlin. He was sick and tired of this and wanted nothing more than to get away from him.

“I was the coward, alright! It wasn‘t _you_ I didn‘t trust! I didn‘t trust _myself_!” shouted Merlin.

“What?” asked Arthur, and turned to blink at Merlin.

“I didn‘t trust myself,” Merlin said again, his voice lower. He ran a hand through his dark hair and gave Arthur a desperate and frustrated look. “The bloody memory spell didn‘t come with the right kind of counter. If I had used the one in the book then _everyone_ would have regained their memories. So, I had to make one up. I thought- I was afraid- I didn‘t want to blow your brains out of your ears, you prat!”

Arthur was speechless. Merlin just glared back at him.

That was it? That was why Merlin had put off returning his memory to him?

“Oh,” said Arthur. Had he really misread the situation that badly? Suddenly, he felt really foolish - the same sort of moron he constantly accused Merlin of being.

Merlin was still glaring at him. “If you hadn‘t run away, I would have told you that!”

“I didn‘t run away,” protested Arthur, weakly.

“What do you call going off looking for a sorcerer you knew was already dead?” grumbled Merlin.

Arthur ignore this. “You could have said something.”

“I tried,” Merlin snorted, his tone dry. “You flung a knife at me. Remember?”

Arthur did remember. He’d been so angry that he’d reacted without thinking. Wanting nothing more than to hurt the one who’d hurt him in turn. What a stupid childish act. He could have hurt Merlin irreparably.

Or worse.

He grabbed Merlin by the shirt, tugging him close and kissed him. Merlin was stiff in his arms, gradually melting under Arthur’s mouth, kissing back with an angry biting edge. Arthur could feel Merlin hardening, his breath becoming faster, his heart beating harder.

Arthur slipped to his knees and nuzzled the hardness of Merlin’s cock he could feel through the cloth.

Merlin blinked at him, eyes dazed. “What are you doing?”

“I‘m apologizing, what do you think?” Arthur replied, finally getting the ties undone.

Merlin looked goggled-eyed. Not his most attractive look, noted Arthur.

Arthur didn’t often to do this. It didn’t particularly interest him. He count on one hand the number of men he’d sucked off, and still have fingers left over. Alcohol had also played an important factor in most of those, except for the one that was a challenge. Which he’d won of course.

But with Merlin, Arthur realized, as he licked the head of Merlin’s cock - making Merlin suck in a breath in a loud shocked gasp - with Merlin he actually wanted it with a need that surprised him.

Arthur _wanted_ to pin Merlin to the wall and just enjoy him. Enjoy the taste of him, the heavy feel of him against his tongue, the musky scent and moans so deep that they reverberated into his mouth and down to his balls. Arthur’s cock took an interest, hardening with every moan thrumming from Merlin’s throat.

At least until Arthur nearly choked from an unexpected thrust of Merlin’s hip. Arthur pulled back, coughed and glared up at Merlin.

“Sorry, sorry,” babbled Merlin, not sounding sincere but rather as if he was drunk on fine wine, his voice was slurring with pleasure. Even Merlin’s eyes looked glazed over.

Arthur smirked smugly, and he had to stand up to kiss Merlin. This time the kiss was gentler. A soft touching of lips, more of a reassurance that the feelings they had for each other were still there and burning as bright as that night.

Their kisses became hungry, Merlin holding Arthur’s shoulders tightly, as if he wanted to sink into Arthur’s body.

Arthur shivered at the appeal of that thought.

He pulled back, grabbed Merlin by the hand and pulled him further into the woods. They should get father away from the road, especially if they were going to make as much noise as Arthur thought they would make.

He didn’t want them to be interrupted  
*-*-*-*

“So how exactly did you come up with the counter-spell that wouldn‘t blow my head up?” asked Arthur idly. They were resting against an elm tree with a worn blanket beneath them. Arthur was enjoying the sun on his face and Merlin’s head resting on his stomach. He absently patted Merlin’s head, smoothing his palm over dark silky strands, and occasionally giving in to the urge to tug at them.

Merlin grumbled whenever he did but didn’t twitch a muscle to escape.

“Gaius helped,” Merlin answered sleepily.

Arthur stared down at Merlin in mute horror. “Gaius knows?!”

“Of course, Gaius knows. He‘s known since the first day.”

Arthur’s horror grew to new unfathomable levels. Gaius regarded Merlin with the same fervent love a father held for his son.

And he knew that Arthur was enjoying Merlin in a sexual way?

Arthur was a dead man, or more likely, one that would start suffering from mysterious ailments until he begged for mercy- for death, simply to make the torment end.

Arthur knew fathers with young virgin daughters who were less protective of their children than Gaius was of Merlin’s wellbeing.

He was dead. Dead, dead, dead. Worse than dead.

“Gaius has always known I‘ve had magic,” Merlin continued blithely, obvious to Arthur’s silent terror.

His words sunk into Arthur’s head and the overwhelming relief made Arthur melt against the trunk of the tree nearly shaking from joy that Gaius didn’t know.

“So, Gaius, he doesn‘t know about us?” Arthur asked just to be certain of it.

“What?” Merlin looked up at Arthur’s face in surprise. “Of course not. That‘s private.” He blushed. “I meant about my magic, revealing myself to save you. I can‘t keep something like that from Gaius. Also, I needed his help in making the counter-spell. If I hadn‘t asked? I really would have blown you up.”

“Then I owe him a debt,” Arthur said.

“He volunteered to test it too,” Merlin said. “So, when it worked he got his memory back about everything that happened that night.”

Arthur was suddenly sympathetic towards Gaius. To have all those memories returned and with them the crystal clear grief of knowing that Merlin was going to die, without having the benefit of memories of helping to set him free. Arthur wondered if Merlin knew how deeply wounded Gaius had been, and then he remembered the scene he’d seen only a day ago. The one that had been so emotional that he’d dare not intrude upon it.

Gaius must have just had his memories returned to be so driven to tears.

“What did Gaius think of our solution?” Arthur asked. He was rather curious. Before Merlin had told him, Arthur would never have thought that Gaius had been secretly protecting a sorcerer for all these months.

Merlin made an unhappy noise. “He was glad I was alive and not going to be executed. But-” Merlin sat up and away from Arthur. Only Merlin’s serious tone and distressed expression kept Arthur from pulling him back against his body.

“He reminded me that people had been hurt,” Merlin continued. “My god, Arthur. The cook, Eliza, had burns on half her body. If she had fallen closer to the fire. I would have killed her.”

Arthur’s breath caught. “No. It wasn‘t your fault. I ordered you to do the spell, remember.”

Merlin shot him a look. “No. I chose the spell, Arthur. I was the one that didn‘t think it through. I should have thought of something else.”

“Time was running out,” Arthur reminded him.

“I really hurt people, Arthur. Innocent people,” Merlin said. “I helped Gaius treat them. I know exactly how badly I misjudged how the spell would affect them.” Merlin slumped.

“We‘ll just have to be more careful next time,” Arthur said after a moment. He had just as much guilt for the harm that had befallen the people of Camelot.

He wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, pulling him back against his body.

But those wounds would heal, even the cook would recover. If Merlin had been executed - well, there would have been no recovery from that.

Arthur pressed a reassuring kiss to Merlin’s temple.

“When we get back to Camelot, I’ll authorize you to take out a few coins from my personal coffers. Just use them to make sure Eliza is comfortable and her family taken care of,” Arthur said.

Merlin turned to stared at him. He swallowed thickly, and whispered, “Thank you.”

“The people of Camelot are my responsibility. All of them,” Arthur reminded him gently. “I would not let her suffer due to one of my decisions.”

“One of our decisions,” Merlin corrected him. The smile on his face made Arthur feel like he could conquer the world for his favor, and do so with ease. He kissed Merlin with all this affection inside him, before they tumbled back onto the blanket.

It was already dirty, they might as well make it messier.  
*-*-*-*

Arthur was enjoying the warmth being radiating by Merlin’s body, a special treat with the temperature dropping as night fell in the forest, when he was struck by an amusing thought. Smugly, he said, “You do realize that you owe me for saving your life.”

Merlin’s head jerked up and he gave Arthur a disbelieving look. “What? I saved you first, from that sorcerer that was going to kill you.”

Arthur smiled at his indignant tone. He waved a hand in the air dismissively, “Oh, we don‘t know that for sure. It‘s not like he ever succeeded in landing his spell-”

“Because I stopped it!”

“- it could have been harmless,” Arthur continued smirking, acting as if Merlin hadn’t said a word. “So, you owe me,” he finished, his smile growing wider.

Merlin sputtered. Then his eyes narrowed, flashed golden, and autumn fallen leaves began hovering in the air with entirely too much menace for fragile foliage.

“What are you- mmrph!” Was all Arthur got out before he was attacked by a mountain of leaves.

Arthur laughed as he was buried under a mound of brown, yellow and red, feeling as if he was the one glowing gold.

End.


End file.
